Using Me, Using You
by cryptictac
Summary: A leopard never changes its spots. Sawyer/Kate. Explicit content.


**Using Me, Using You**  
by Ticcy

"Freckles?" he begins.

She presses her fingers to Sawyer's lips, shushing him. Though it's dark in Sawyer's tent, she can tell he's startled. Before he can say anything else, she replaces her fingers with her mouth, kissing him with an insistent hunger that he quickly catches up to. Soon, he's breathing fast, frantic, his hands under her shirt while straddles his hips and cradles his face in her palms. She rubs her thumbs over his stubble, tastes the faint tang of stale whiskey on his breath. "Goin' to tell me what this is all about, Freckles?" he eventually murmurs, deep and scratchy against her jaw.

Kate sits up and pushes him flat to his back. "Quiet," is all she tells him. She starts tugging his shirt off urgently.

"Ooh, impatient. S'pose you was just in the neighbourhood?"

"Don't make me gag you." Feeling his hands pushing up her shirt, she clumsily helps him strip it off, gasping as his broad palms scoop up her breasts. The tent becomes filled with the sound of their breathing and clothes being tossed aside, until she finally, _finally_ has Sawyer exactly how she wants him: naked and sweaty and needy. She bites back another gasp as she slides her clit along his penis, perspiration already dampening her skin all over. In one swift motion, Sawyer flips her onto her back, eliciting a surprised grunt from her, and then his tongue is all over her chest, her breasts, her nipples. She threads her fingers into his hair and claws at his scalp, softly begging, "Don't stop."

She hears him chuckle; a low and arrogant purr against her skin. Wrapping her legs around his waist, she silently tells him what she wants and he doesn't hesitate. She grips onto him tightly, smothering a groan into his hair as he slides in fast and deep. He gathers her in his arms and she finds herself being hauled up so he's straddling his lap while he's on his haunches. His hands are everywhere again - her back, her hips, in her hair, his kisses burning a trail all over her throat and chin. She starts panting, little needy noises she can't hold back as the pleasure builds faster and higher, and soon she's shaking with release. She spreads her knees wider and grinds down on him, driving herself to a quick second orgasm.

He's got his hands twisted in her hair when he finally comes. His voice is raw and vulnerable by her ear, and for the next few moments she relaxes into the way he gently strokes her back and smiles against her temple. For a few moments, she can almost imagine this to mean something more than she lets it mean. "Freckles..." Sawyer murmurs with all the tenderness of a sex-drunk - or maybe love-drunk - man. He kisses her softly and she lets him until he stupidly opens his big mouth again and says, "Kate."

She abruptly pulls back, air hitting her sweaty skin and her breath still quick and shallow. She rakes her messy hair back from her face and makes a grab for her shirt. Sawyer's hand dashes out and grabs hers just before she reaches it. "You're splittin'?" All the tenderness is gone from his voice, replaced with something equal parts confused and frustrated.

She keeps her gaze averted. "I should head home."

"To what? Your tarp?"

She yanks her hand free and pulls her shirt on. She almost feels guilty, leaving him like this. Almost. "Get some sleep."

"Hell, yeah. That sounds like a great idea. Get used and then have sweet dreams."

"I'm not using you any more than you're using me," she replies. She climbs to her feet to pull her pants on and spies Sawyer staring up at her with an expression she can't quite decipher. Doesn't _want_ to decipher.

"And what if I ain't usin' you?"

She gives him a carefully impassive look. "A leopard never changes its spots, Sawyer."

His face clouds over. "Gee. We talkin' 'bout you or me here, Freckles? I ain't the one comin' to your tent every other night."

She's suddenly uncomfortable under his gaze. Maybe she does feel guilty. Maybe she _should_ stay. At least she deserves someone like Sawyer. She _doesn't_ deserve someone like Jack. She catches Sawyer starting to smirk at her hesitance, like he knows she's reconsidering. She gives herself a quick mental shake and pushes the tarp aside to step out into the clear, humid night.

"Good," she replies. "Let's keep it that way."

**end**


End file.
